


Grounded

by Brenda



Category: Captain America (Movies), Captain America - All Media Types, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Clint Barton & Sam Wilson Friendship, F/M, Introspection, Minor Bucky Barnes/Steve Rogers, POV Sam Wilson, Post-Captain America: Civil War (Movie), Sam Is So Done, Sam Wilson Feels, Sam is Not Amused
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-25
Updated: 2017-09-25
Packaged: 2019-01-05 03:13:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,155
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12181806
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Brenda/pseuds/Brenda
Summary: Damn Stark and his bullshit, ill-conceived ultimatums, and damn Steve for his inability to walk away and his blind eye where Barnes is concerned, and damn Barnes and his shady as hell past and thinking running would make that all go away, and damn himself for jumping into this mess in the first place just because he'd missed playing the hero.Or: Post-Civil War, Sam's got a few thoughts about how everything got so fucked up.





	Grounded

**Author's Note:**

  * For [stephrc79](https://archiveofourown.org/users/stephrc79/gifts), [superhumandisasters](https://archiveofourown.org/users/superhumandisasters/gifts).



> Written for the [2017 Sam Wilson Birthday Bang](https://samwilsonbirthdaybang.tumblr.com)! Thank you to the mods for the great bang and giving us a chance to give Sam all the love he deserves. :D

Wakanda is a beautiful country – one of the prettiest Sam's ever seen, in fact – but it only takes a couple of days for the restlessness to set in. He's grateful for T'Challa's hospitality and offer of sanctuary, of course he is, but he's also not under any delusions about what's really going on, either. Sam might be an honored guest of the King in the Royal Palace, and have a luxurious suite of rooms that might actually be bigger than his house in D.C., but no amount of luxury can disguise the fact that he and the others are still imprisoned. Granted, it's not the same sort of prison as The Raft – the view where he's sitting is better, for one, and so is the food. He's also not behind literal bars in an underwater facility, or getting _accidentally_ punched in the face by any guards, but he's still not free. He's not allowed to contact his family or friends, or to even _ask_ where Nat is, if she's safe or if she's been remanded into custody at another black site. He still can't wake up in his own bed, if he even _has_ a bed anymore or if his belongings have been 'confiscated' as evidence. He's not even allowed to leave the capital city, let alone the country. Which means he can't defend himself from the charges the US government and the UN Security Council have leveled against him, or offer a rebuttal to the pundits and talking heads on every major news station and every blog calling for his head.

Samuel Thomas Wilson. Fugitive. Criminal. _Traitor_. 

All his parents' hard work and sacrifice so he could have a healthy childhood and the best education possible, all of his _own_ hard work and sacrifice to serve his country and protect the innocent – to save lives and _help_ people, to be a good man, someone kids could look up to and be proud of – and he'd pissed it all away to follow a reckless, stubborn white boy just because he'd talked a good game. All of that education and smarts, and he'd fallen for the same bullshit and propaganda that he'd protested against in college, had allowed himself to be swayed by pretty speeches and flattery, to be taken in by appeals to his sense of fair play and righteousness, that need to swoop in and save the world... And look where he'd ended up. A man without a home or country, locked in exile. 

Which maybe isn't fair to lay all of that on Steve's ridiculously broad shoulders, but Sam doesn't feel much like being fair at the moment. Losing one's entire life will do that.

It doesn't help that Steve had basically abandoned Sam and the rest of the group the second he'd escorted them all safely to the Royal Palace. He's been squirreled away in one of the guest suites, spending every last second he can with Barnes. No one's set an exact date yet for Barnes going into cryo so Wakanda's finest can try to root out the rest of his triggers, but Sam figures that day is coming sooner rather than later.

And yeah, of course Sam gets it, he's not heartless. He's spent far too much time with Steve over the last two years chasing after leads on Barnes not to know exactly what Barnes means to Steve and the history they share. So no, he doesn't exactly blame Steve for his choice – except in all the ways Barnes still makes the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end – but it's not helping Sam's edginess. And it's certainly not helping to alleviate his feelings of displacement or isolation.

He sighs, dropping his elbows to his knees as he surveys the sun-drenched area around him. It's peaceful up here, high on one of the tower ledges, far above the traffic and noise of the city below. The breeze is also cooler, crisper, with a bite to it that reminds him of soaring through the air on his wings. Wings he's also not getting back anytime soon, and just the idea of being grounded _again_ , losing that freedom and that purpose along with everything else, just pisses him off. Damn Stark and his bullshit, ill-conceived ultimatums, and damn Steve for his inability to walk away and his blind eye where Barnes is concerned, and damn Barnes and his shady as hell past and thinking running would make that all go away, and damn himself for jumping into this mess in the first place just because he'd missed playing the hero.

Fuck, but he needs Nat. Needs her wisdom and steadiness and the warmth of her touch and the way she challenges and soothes him in equal measure. The worst part of all of this is not knowing if she's okay out there, with no backup and no team to call on if shit goes even more sideways. Sam should be out there looking for her, not stuck here in this opulent cell like this is some weird vacation. He should be by her side, at her back, providing an extra set of eyes and hands, not confined to one place, neutered and ineffective. 

He can't stay here much longer. He'll lose what's left of his mind if he does.

Clint appears next to him, as if conjured by the thin mist hanging over the mountains, his steps making no noise along the stones. He drops next to Sam, legs dangling over the side of the tower without a care in the world. But then, Sam figures, Clint's used to heights. 

"Good sightlines up here," Clint remarks, with a satisfied nod.

"Yeah, I guess," Sam agrees, looking around again. Clint's right; it's the best vantage point to see both the buildings below and the mountains beyond, and it provides good cover, with the awning over their heads. Perfect spot for a sniper's nest. "Gotta say, though, the fact that that was your first thought worries me a little."

Clint just shoots him a wry grin. "The fact that it _wasn't_ yours worries me."

"Yeah, well, some of us are actually well-adjusted human beings and not paranoid spies."

"You hang out with supersoldiers and gods and meta-humans and fly around with mechanical wings strapped to your back," Clint replies, the grin morphing into a wide smirk. "Not too sure you're the poster child for well-adjusted."

Sam concedes the point with a nod, but doesn't say anything. It's not like Clint's wrong, but he'd gotten into this gig to make a difference. He'd stood with Steve because that had been the right thing to do, not because he wanted to get in bed with the Avengers. When had everything gotten so twisted around? 

They sit in companionable silence for a few minutes, enjoying the breeze and the view of the waterfalls in the distance, the Black Panther statue looming over the area, poised to strike. It's a perfect symbol for the nation – a guardian of the people, a protector. Something Sam and Clint had both been, just a couple of weeks ago. Before Lagos and Berlin and Leipzig, before everything had all gone to hell in a handbasket, and Stark's pigheadedness and Steve's stubbornness had split their team right in half. And maybe, if it had just been the skirmish at the airport or a difference of opinion about signing the Accords, they all might've been able to walk back from it, and come to some sort of compromise where the Accords were concerned. They might've been able to patch up their hurt feelings and wounded pride, to rally around Rhodey and his recovery, and started working together on trying to make sure another Zemo never happened. 

But then Steve had told Sam what Barnes had done to Stark's parents when he'd still been The Winter Soldier – and, well, there's no apology that could make that better. Even if Barnes _had_ been brainwashed and tortured for decades into committing murder, he'd still been the weapon Hydra'd used to kill Howard and Maria Stark. Sam's not sure he wouldn't have responded the exact same way in Stark's shoes – maybe he wouldn't have actually tried to kill Barnes, but who's to say how he would have acted in the heat of the moment. Add in Steve's complicity – the fact that he'd _known_ and kept that secret from everyone, not just Stark – and well, there's no way Stark will be inclined to let Barnes walk clean.

And Steve's made it very clear that if exonerating Barnes isn't part of any clemency package, then he's not interested. Which means Steve's not coming back from this, not unless Barnes goes free along with everyone else who'd fought with them at the airport. Which _also_ means Sam isn't coming back from this, unless he wants to turn his back on Steve and their friendship. Which isn't a road he's willing to take, even as annoyed as he is right now by Steve and his inability to compromise. Sam's already lost one partner – he's not losing another, not if there's anything he can do to prevent it. He may not have chosen this fight, and he's sure as hell not happy about getting stuck in the middle of it, but he knows, if their situations had been reversed, he'd protect Riley the exact same way, and he'd want Steve to have his back.

"Were you able to get in touch with Laura?" he asks, glancing at Clint's profile.

"Yeah, she and the kids are safe." A muscle ticks in his jaw, and he flattens his hand from where it had curled into a fist. "T'Challa offered to put them under protection, but I think it's better if they're far off the grid, and as few people know where they are as possible."

"I feel you." Sam wonders if Ross will try to go after his own folks or his sister to try to smoke him out. Men like Ross don't take so well to losing, and Steve swooping into a supposedly impenetrable facility and making off with his prized prisoners had to have been a pretty big black eye. Ross is going to want to make up for that embarrassment somehow, no matter who gets trampled in the process. Thank God Wakanda doesn't have an extradition treaty with any other country, or they'd all really be fucked.

"You able to contact your family and let them know you're okay?" Clint asks.

Sam shakes his head. "Nah, I don't wanna put them in Ross' crosshairs if I don't have to." T'Challa had made a few discreet inquiries and made sure they were safe, but that had been as far as Sam had been willing to push it. 

Clint lets out an inelegant snort. "Well, I wouldn't count on Tony to keep him in line. He'd probably give them up to save his own ass, or just to prove a point."

"Wait, you think that's why he mentioned yours?" Sam had just assumed Stark had let it slip in the heat of the moment. They'd gone after each other pretty hard during their argument on The Raft.

"I don't think it, I know it," Clint replies, with a flat, hard look in his eyes. "He knew what he was doing. It was payback for me siding against him, plain and simple."

Sam doesn't necessarily agree – Stark had seemed pretty desperate to find Steve, and more than slightly horrified by seeing his friends and colleagues behind bars. But he doesn't argue the point – he's not in the mood to defend Stark, either, or let him off the hook for his actions. There's plenty of blame to go around, God knows, but Stark definitely bears the brunt of it. Yeah, maybe Stark had gotten into the whole superhero business out of some sense of duty or as penance to atone for his past as a weapons dealer, but he hadn't learned any of the lessons he should have from Loki or from Ultron. Instead, he'd let all of that guilt fester until it spilled over and poisoned everyone in his path, friends and foes alike. Typical rich white boy syndrome, thinking they could buy or bribe their way out of consequences, not caring who around them suffered as a result. Sam's had enough of it to last a lifetime.

"You know," he says, "I keep thinking this all could have been avoided if he and Steve just learned to communicate like adults."

"Well, that's your mistake, thinking those two were friends to start with, or that Tony would have listened to anything Steve had to say," Clint replies. "I mean, it's not like Tony consulted the rest of us before setting out to completely change our lives. He just thought...fuck, that we'd hop to attention and go along with signing something we hadn't read or even debated? That _Steve_ would go along with it? Shit, it's like he never really knew us at all."

Which is pretty much what Sam had been thinking. He lets out another slow breath, and drops his gaze to his hands. Scuffed, scarred, thick with calluses – the hands of a healer, of a fighter. An _Avenger_. A title he might never get back. A purpose and clarity he might never find again. That sense of camaraderie and kinship, working towards a greater goal. All of it lost, and for what?

"Crazy to think how shit got so fucked so fast," he murmurs. He knows he sounds bitter, but he doesn't try to rein it in. He figures Clint, of all people, won't judge. 

Clint rubs his hands along his jeans, his look pensive. "To be honest, I'm surprised we lasted as a team as long as we did. People like you and me, hell even Nat the last few years...we're used to working with a chain of command. Used to that push and pull of working together, and knowing which orders are good and which ones are gonna get you killed." He shrugs, that thousand-yard stare directed out over the horizon. "But Tony? Bruce? They never had to learn that. As for Steve...well, he might be the ultimate team player, but we all know his objectivity goes right out the window when it comes to Barnes. Not to mention, he should still be in therapy for all the shit he's been through since he was unfrozen." Clint spreads his hands out. "You throw in Coulson dying and Fury going off the grid...I mean, let's just say when the adults in the room leave the kids unsupervised, well, we all know what happens."

"I can't even argue with you there." Not that he wants to – he just wishes the stubborn idiot he calls friend and the equally stubborn idiot he'd called a colleague hadn't dragged everyone else along for the ride. 

"Nat rolled in about an hour ago, by the way," Clint says, so nonchalantly it takes Sam a second to register the words.

"She...she's what?"

"She's here. At the Palace." Clint claps him on the back. "I was actually sent to come find you."

Nat's free and she's safe and she's in Wakanda. Sam lets out a short breath, the tightness in his lungs loosening as it sinks in. "Why didn't she come to find me herself?"

"She got pulled into a security briefing the second she landed." Clint's grin is sly and knowing. "I think T'Challa was worried you two wouldn't surface for air for a week if he let her find you right away."

Well, that's...not entirely inaccurate. But Sam still shoves at Clint's arm, not at all gentle. "You're a dick, Barton."

Clint shrugs, unconcerned. "You're not even the first person today to tell me that."

"And I'm sure I won't be the last." Sam scrambles to his feet, then places a hand to Clint's shoulder. "You gonna be okay, man?"

"Yeah, thanks." Clint nods, but his look is grateful. "I'm good, go on."

Sam doesn't quite sprint down the stairs, but it's a near thing. He goes to his room first, and finds Nat standing by the window, her profile highlighted by the afternoon sun, casting her hair in a fiery-red glow. God, just _looking_ at her soothes the ragged edges of his soul.

She turns when he opens the door, and rushes to him, her expression icing over even as deceptively soft hands frame his face. Hazel eyes zero in on the fading bruises around his eyes and cheeks. "I'll kill them," she vows, low and passionate. "Anyone that laid a finger on you –"

He leans in and kisses her, partially because it's been a long time and he's missed her so much it had been a physical ache, and partially to silence her very real threats. He's under no illusions she'd do exactly what she'd said if he gave her any latitude. "I'm good," he assures her. "This is nothing. You don't gotta wage a war on my behalf for these love taps."

A little bit of the murderous light leaves her gaze, even as her fingers trace his forehead and cheeks and chin, the touches light, but possessive. "Well, that doesn't sound like much fun," she says, with a small, and beautifully familiar, smirk.

He smiles back, even though his heart's not in it. "I think I've had enough of fighting for the moment."

"Yeah," she sighs, softly, "me too."

He sits on the edge of the bed and urges her down with him so he can pull her in close. Just to feel the strength of her, real and solid, against him. They match breaths for a moment, taking comfort and succor in the other, content to just _be_ , and be together.

He rubs his hand along the proud line of her spine, presses light kisses to her hair and temple. Inhales deep, savoring the way she fits against him, the way they fit together, two puzzle pieces perfectly interlocking. "Surprised the King let you in the country, after you tazed him," he softly remarks.

Her lips curve up, rueful, as she leans up to catch his lips in a quick kiss. "Let's just say he and I have an understanding."

"An understanding, huh," he teases, squeezing her knee. "That sounds like a story."

"It is, but I'd rather focus on you right now." She puts her hands over his, the touch grounding him, an anchor reminding him what's worth fighting for. "What do you need?"

To go home, he thinks. For Steve to find Stark and repair what's been broken. To go back to last week, when they'd all had options, before everything had gone to shit and upended their lives. He swallows the words before they've even fully formed in his brain. He can't lay that burden on her. She's got enough of her own to carry, and besides, it's not anything she could fix. Sam had gotten himself into this mess; it's up to him to figure out a way to get out of it, if there even is a way. 

"I got what I need," he tells her instead, tilting her face up to brush another kiss to her lips. "You safe and with me is enough."

"It's really not, but I appreciate the lie," she says, and deepens the kiss with a quick nip of her teeth on his lower lip and a light flick of her tongue to sooth the sting. "So what now?" she asks, after she pulls back.

"Fuck, babe, I was hoping you could tell me that. We can't stay here forever." Every minute he's stuck in Wakanda feels like a defeat. He needs to be out in the world, doing _something_ , no matter how small. They may not be able to operate on the same scale that they used to, but the world still needs saving. People still need help. They still have to try, at least, to make things right somehow. He may not be an Avenger, but he could still be a hero.

Steve can stay here and play house with Barnes and hide from the world and his responsibilities all he wants, but Sam's tired of sitting on his ass.

"No we can't," she agrees. "You good with going dark, living on the run until we can get things straightened out?"

He shrugs, even as he brings their joined hands to his lips to buss them against her knuckles. The last few days without her around had been the worst sort of hell. "Long as we're together and still helping people, sure. But if you're thinking a different sort of going dark, I'm out." Not even for her would he do wet-work. Self-defense was one thing, but becoming mercenaries or assassins was another kettle of fish.

She lets out a small snort. "You know I wasn't."

"I do." But it still didn't hurt to be sure. Just in case she'd had an alternate sort of justice in mind. Wouldn't be the first time their worldviews didn't align.

"I'm surprised you and Steve haven't come up with a plan."

Sam lets out a sardonic laugh that's maybe more than a little harsh. "I've barely seen him. He's been...occupied."

"With Barnes," she says, not a question. "I'm guessing that upsets you?"

Lying to her wasn't an option. Not after everything they'd been through, and all the hoops he'd had to _jump_ through to earn her trust in the first place. "Maybe a little, yeah."

"Is this about Steve not being around or because it's Barnes he's with or something else?"

"It's about everything. Me, Steve, Stark, Barnes, the whole kit and caboodle," he admits, letting down all of his guards. With Nat, there's never been a need for them in the first place. "I got back into this hero business because I believed in what Steve was selling, and taking down Hydra was a goal everyone could get behind. I was even okay with searching for Barnes, because he deserves a chance to reclaim his life. But this? Fighting each other, keeping secrets, Stark and Steve almost killing each other while the rest of us are either in prison or scattered across the globe? Man, this is all shades of fucked up, and there's no winner here. We're not gonna be able to pull a victory out of our asses at the last minute, not this time."

"Does this mean you want to sign the Accords now?" she asks, slowly, like she's testing out the words.

He shakes his head once, decisively. "Not as long as Ross is in charge." Like hell he'd ever work for Ross, even tangentially. Not after The Raft, the fucked up things he'd done to Wanda, the shit he'd allowed his guards to pull on himself and Clint and Scott.

"But you think we need to be supervised." It's also not a question. Sam loves her for her perceptiveness, even as much as it scares him sometimes how easily she can read him and everyone else in the room.

"I think letting men like Stark run around unchecked..." He gives her what he's pretty sure is a hopeless look. "Well, we all know what happened with Ultron and Sokovia. We all know what the Accords are really about to him."

She shifts so she's straddling his lap, her weight warm and welcome. Those same soft hands cradle his jaw as she studies his face, perceptive hazel eyes boring right down into his core. "If you do want to sign...if you want to go home, be with your family, we'll understand. _I'd_ understand."

He wraps his arms around her waist, and rests his forehead against hers. Fatigue sweeps over him, sudden and unwelcome. "This isn't about that," he says, quiet, but firm. "I just...we had a good thing going, all of us. And now...I don't know." He has no idea what's the right move now or what makes sense or what the next step should be. All he knows is he's tired of doing nothing.

"It's okay," she says, even though they both know the truth. "You don't have to decide what you want to do right away."

He nods, and pulls her in even closer, feels her heart beating against his, steady, another anchor tethering him to himself. "Right now, I just want to block out the world and pretend everything's good."

"Yeah?" He can feel her smile as she places a light kiss to the corner of his mouth. "Any idea on how you wanna do that?"

"I can think of a few," he tells her, before her hands snake under his shirt and her lips press against his, harder, insistent, and all of his troubles fall away for the moment. He and Nat are here with each other, united, and that's a pretty good place to start.

***

  
**Art by[SuperHumanDisasters](https://superhumandisasters.tumblr.com)**

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to my amazing artist [SuperHumanDisasters](https://superhumandisasters.tumblr.com) for their amazing art - please like and reblog [here](https://superhumandisasters.tumblr.com/post/165707986171/drawn-for-the-samwilsonbirthdaybang-to-accompany). :)
> 
> Thanks to [Boop](https://boopifer.tumblr.com) for going over the story with me, and for the beta!!! Any remaining mistakes are on me.
> 
> You can now find me on [Tumblr](https://brendaonao3.tumblr.com)!


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